A Declined Invitation

Have you ever had someone turn down your invitation to join you for a party or an event? It stinks, doesn’t it? I mean, the whole point in asking them to come is because you want to be with them. You want to share the experience with them. Partake in the enjoyment of it together.

This happened to me last week. I sent an invite to someone I really wanted to spend time with. It wasn’t just that they declined, they didn’t even bother to respond.Initially. I gave them the benifit of the doubt thinking they must not have seen the invitation.We’ve all missed evites that got buried under the spam mail, right? So, when I saw them I asked, ‘hey, did you see my invitation? I didn’t want you to miss it!’ Yep….they’d seen it. Seen and Dismissed. Ouch! Not only did they not answer, but they couldn’t give me an explanation as to Why they didn’t want to attend. All I got was shrugged shoulders and a mumbled “Idunno’. Dannggggg ya’ll. I’m not going to lie, I was pissed. And hurt. RSVP

Issuing an invitation entails a certain degree of trust.

You trust that:

they will share your interest

they will make an effort to attend if possible

they will, at the very least, RSVP.

Here is the thing about Invitations though. They come with options.

Yes. No. Maybe.(like those notes we passed in elementary school)

Invitations don’t guarantee someone’s presence or participation. They are not commands bereft of  a choice. The invited are allowed to exercise free will.

And really isn’t this the way it should be? If I invite someone to be with me I want them to attend with the same enthusiasm that I invited them with. Attendance out of obligation is meaningless.

Issuing an invitation is an act of vulnerability. We put our hearts out with every invite by offering a piece of ourselves to the other person. We are saying ‘I want you. You matter to me and I want to share some of my time with you’. That’s why it hurts so much when we get declined.It doesn’t just feel like a negative response to the event it feels like a rejection of US.       expectation

So, as I was licking my wounds and being really ticked off, I started wondering how God would want me to respond. I was pretty sure that my initial reaction of being sullen and snarky wasn’t the proper way to handle it. It made me think of how many times He issues invitations to me that I decline. Or invitations I don’t even acknowledge. How many times does God beckon me to come spend time with Him? How many times has He asked me to do something with Him and I just hit delete without responding? The awesome thing about God not being me is that He never gets sullen and snarky about my lack of response. He just keeps inviting as if I never rejected Him. He’s far more secure in His worth than I am in mine.

In thinking of how God responds to me I came up with a few guidelines for me to remember when my invitations get rejected:

A negative response does not determine my worth or value.It’s never personal When I say no to God it doesn’t mean I don’t love Him. My response is solely based on what I’m feeling or focusing on at the moment. Yes, I know that’s selfish. Don’t judge me.

My joy is not based on their presence or absence. I have expectations of people and when they aren’t met I get hurt and disappointed and sad. I don’t think God has these unrealistic expectations of us. He wants us to decide to be with Him. I believe He’s delighted for US when we choose to accept His invitation but I don’t think it ruins His day when we don’t.

I can’t control what people will say Yes to or when.I can only hope they will. And they will, when the time is right for them. I say ‘yes’ to God when I’m ready. He doesn’t try to control my decision, He just keeps issuing the invitation. No pressure. No expectations. Just patient and continual offering. He doesn’t give up on me because I initially reject His offer. He knows that being with Him is awesome!  (that is some amazing self esteem) The ones who think that being with me is awesome will accept my invitation. The ones that keep ignoring it…well they’re going to miss out but it’s no longer going to ruin my day.god pursues

I’ll be honest. Even with this insight my feelings are still bruised. Except now instead of being a deep purplish one it’s turning into a pale yellow one. A few more days and I should be healed. Maybe next time I’ll dodge the blow altogether.

 

 

 

9 Things I’ve Learned Through Blogging

Blogging is much more difficult than I expected. It’s not only attempting to write content that’s engaging. There’s grammar, punctuation, spelling, wording…and then there’s the self discovery. This one I was not prepared for.

In writing a blog about my life experiences I’ve been  forced to examine what I think, feel, and believe about everything. Since I’m a storyteller and not a fiction writer (there is a difference) I cannot, in good conscience, write lies to my readers.Truth be told (pun intended) I’m a horrible liar Period! Zero poker face.Gambling is not in my future.cannot tell a lie

I can sense a post straying from authenticity when I lose my ‘flow’. If I am completely at peace with my story the words tumble out so quickly that I can scarcely type fast enough to catch them on paper. The moment I dig up and Un Truth my words become forced. That’s when I know something about the subject hasn’t been settled. There’s anger or pain still lingering. Or the really fun discovery of how far away my perceptions were from reality. Man , I Hate that one!

perception vs reality

This truth telling endeavor has uncovered more self deception than I anticipated. Here are some examples of my most frequently used :

It’s not that bad

It didn’t really bother me

I’m fine

I should have known better

It’s my fault

When the truth is:

It WAS that bad

It more than bothered my. It was devastating

I was so Not fine

I  couldn’t see a better way

It wasn’t my fault

The thing about this Archaelogical Truth Excavation is that instead of being IN the situations I can now look AT them. When you’re IN something you can’t see all aspects of it. When you’re looking AT something you can take it all in , walk around it, away from it, observe it from afar. The distance allows me to assess the past more objectively and come to terms with it’s impact on my life both good and bad.

Another thing about a personal blog is that it’s so, well…..PERSONAL. I don’t get to look you in the eye while I narrate my life and discern whether or not I should censor something based on your smile or your recoil.I have No idea whose reading this, what their reaction is, or how they’re judging me. Imagine reading your diary out loud in front of a full auditorium wearing a bikini. *shudder*

Writing this blog has also been a test of my faith in God. I never would have begun this journey if He hadn’t nagged me relentlessly for about a year. Seriously, it was like a toddler saying “mama.mama.mama.mama.” Except it sounded like, “you gonna write it? How about now? Now? How about now? Now is good do it now”…To which my very mature response was,’FINE! If it gets you off my back I’ll do it!” I’ll bet God loves my obedient nature.

I really didn’t know who I was writing for or what the purpose was. I still don’t know who I might be helping or even if I am .Not worrying about that takes an incredible amount of trust in God. I want to write content that people will like. I’m a people pleaser. This is my thing. The minute I start obsessing over whether or not you guys will like it – I lose the flow. I have to give up control over it and let God do what He will with what He inspires me to write.

So here is the list of the Top 9 Things I’ve Discovered about Myself while Blogging:

  1. I’m impatient and impulsive. (Those of you who are already saying, ‘Duh!’ , Stop it.) This one is evidenced in how quickly I mash the Publish button before proofreading/improving a post.
  2. I’m still healing.  I’ve moved from Hot Mess to Lukewarm.
  3. I’m more confident than I realized. depends on the day.
  4. I’m more insecure than I realized. depends on the day.
  5. I still hate my ex husband. Like, a lot. I’ve tried so many times to write about him and my marriage. I can’t.It would just be hate mail. This ones a work in progress.
  6. My motives are not always where they should be I have to check my self on who I’m writing for. Me & you or God.
  7. I care too much what other people think. #peoplepleaser
  8. I don’t give a rip what other people think #recoveringpeoplepleaser
  9. Giving up control isn’t the same as losing control holding on tightly crushes things. Loosening your grip lets them expand.

There you have it. We’ve covered squashing self deception, being transparent, giving up control, and obedience. See how Fun this is?!! You can’t wait to start your blog now, can you?

In all honesty, (no pun intended) I love every minute of it. It’s challenging. It forces me to do something I’ve never done and to move ahead into unknown territory. This is exactly the kind of project that Thrills me! I thank all of you who stop by for sharing this journey with me. My deepest desire is that you find treasures that make you giggle or give you hope or maybe dislodge you from being stuck somewhere. It’s not easy in the least, but I can genuinely say – it’s worth it.

trust in the Lord

Dawn Chorus

I’m an early bird. There is something soul nourishing about being awake in the stillness. The crisp morning air . The scent of clean earth. There is so much hope and promise in a sunrise. Nothing has been done yet. No decisions or mistakes. No conversations that you wish you could do over. And the birdsong. I love the birdsong. I make my coffee (#priorities) and snuggle down in my favorite place; a big oversized chair in our living room that looks out through a bay window. In front of the window is a bird feeder. I can sit for hours just watching every sort of chickadee and sparrow flit down to peck a few seeds and fly away. They are a delight to watch and their plumage never ceases to amaze me. But it’s their song I love the most. Before the first rays appear, while it is still dark, they begin.

.bird singing

How do we sing in the shadowed places? The birds sing in anticipation of the first glimmers of dawn. Long before the arrival of the first light they sing with assurance the sun will rise again like it’s done thousands of times before. They sing of hope and faithfulness. Not every song is buoyant.Beside the joyful twitter of the bluebird is the haunting coo of the mourning dove.There have been so many times when I thought midnight would last forever.When my song was nothing more than the choked out sobs of despair. But I kept scanning the horizon, looking for the dimmest glow in anticipation of it’s arrival. It’s not that I’m the eternal optimist.(though my rose colored glasses are well used). It’s the fact that no matter my situation God has been faithful to me. Whether you sing a melody or a dirge I promise you God is listening and He is faithful to you when you call to Him. Always. Even when it feels like you’ve been singing for an eternity without an audience.

.flock of birds singing

Tomorrow morning I urge you to go outside and listen to the chorus. The lyrics intertwined, overlapped, a blended cacophony of unique warbles, twitters, and trills. Not one more important than the other This is their Dawn Chorus not a Dawn Solo. The birds don’t sing alone and we aren’t meant to either. We have to find our flock. When we intone our hymns of grief there will be others grieving with you. When we explode with uncontained joy there will be others who rejoice with us! Their voices lifting up our own song in solidarity. Find the ones who remember the light that came after their darkness. Those are flock. Your people. The ones who will help you remember the sunrises of your past.Search the horizon together and sing your Chorus of anticipation to the God who shines light in the dark.

God sunrise

Jesus and the Phone Charger

As Easter approaches my 10yr old son and I have had some interesting discussions about Jesus. He is a quick thinking, no nonsense type of child who appreciates a no nonsense, ‘real world application’ answer.Luckily, I happen to be fairly gifted in the area of metaphors.
His most recent question was this, ” What do we need Jesus for if we already have God?” “Well”, I answered, we needed someone to reconcile us with God; to take our sins away so that….” Looking at the blank stare on his face my sentence trailed off unfinished. I’m pretty sure I lost him somewhere around ‘reconcile’. Eager to capture this teachable moment I quickly rifled through my rolodex of Sunday school explanations. Spying my phone I had my lightbulb moment!
“Okay, pretend the cell phone is us and the wall plug is God. You know how you have to have a cord to get from the phone to the wall so that you can charge it? The cord is Jesus. In order for us to be connected with God, we needed a charger. Now, imagine that the phone has a glitch in it, but the Jesus charger takes all the glitches away so that it can absorb the power in the wall. At this point there is a light coming into my son’s eyes and he’s no longer playing with the remote. Ha! I’ve got him! So I continue.
“And you know how when we buy the cheap imitation chargers they break easily and take For Ev Er to charge the phone? But the original charger works every time and never fails? The cheap imitation chargers are like all the things in life that people chase instead of Jesus. Money, fame, false religions, girlfriends, cars…those are the imitation chargers and Jesus is the original. The imitations work ok for a while, but their power runs out pretty quickly and they can’t fix the glitches. In fact , sometimes they add more glitches because they weren’t meant for the phones in the first place. The original Jesus charger never lets us down, fixes the bugs and keeps us connected to the original power source; God.Does that make more sense?”Mentally I am now high fiving myself for this moment of parental brilliance amazed I could come up with something so simple yet so deep at 8pm after my glass of Sav Blanc.
Son,” Cool. Can I have a snack?”
And this, my friends, is what keeps me humble.

                                                    A Certain Kind of Courage

Courage is found in unlikely places;

in shattered dreams and tear stained faces.

Raising your hand in front of the class when you’re so afraid they are going to laugh.

Proclaiming the truth and exposing the lie.

Whispering secrets you’d locked inside.

Choosing to live when your loved one is dead and finding the will to get out of bed.

It’s seeking forgiveness

and asking for help.

It’s forcing a smile and facing yourself.

It’s shaky legs that stand up for the weak and the timid voice

that bravely squeaks.

It’s finding your dark and choosing the Light.

Loving yourself;

being able to cry.

It’s laying it all at your Saviour’s feet;

all of the messy and none of the neat.

Trusting His strength and His sovereign hand.

Having Peace in your journey without knowing the plans.

-C.Pay 2015

Everything I Know about Fighting I Learned from my Son

If you fell down yesterday stand up todayIf you met me today, you would say that I was a fighter. A strong woman who won’t take sass from anyone. Such was not always the case. I suppose I have always been competitive. In fact, I’m Sure I’ve always been competitive both with myself and others. We may be friends, but if you play a card game with me the gloves come off! 😉 Fighting however is a different matter altogether.  Being sexually abused stunted my growth in so many ways.I didn’t get the chance to learn to fight small skirmishes and build my stamina over the years. I lost the first battle. A huge battle. And the scars went to the core. Instead of coming out of it with my fists raised to the sky I learned to contract into myself. Curl into a little roly poly until the danger passes. If fighting and losing was going to hurt that badly then why do it at all.

Then I had my son. There’s something about holding a tiny defenseless baby that smells like heaven.Instinct and love tell you that you must do whatever it takes to protect this child. That’s what ‘good’ parents do, right? What if you don’t know how to fight? What if the idea of it grips you with terror? If my son asked me how I learned to fight, I’d tell him this:

From the time I was pregnant I fought the nausea, the weight gain, the labor pains. When they let me take you home, I fought the panic that I had no idea what I was doing.

I warred against insecurity, ignorance, and impatience.

Croup, ear infections,and teething became my world and I fought for sleep.I wrestled to comfort you, quiet you, soothe you to no avail.In the morning I went to work and fought to stay awake.

I fought to maintain your home in the face of my divorce and when your father threatened to abduct you, I fought to hide you and keep you safe in my arms.

As a single mom I struggled to support us, to find time with you between jobs, to make sure you felt loved and not left.

School was hard for you and I campaigned for your education, to understand you, to support you.

They diagnosed you soon with ADD and then with Bipolar disorder and I rose up against dread. I battled to get appointments, good doctors, the right medications. I pushed against their assumptions of your bleak future and counter argued with hope.I devoured every piece of information on mental illness and armed myself with knowledge.

As you slept at night and I sat by your bed and cried. I fought the fear that I could never be worthy of being the parent you needed. I cried out to God for the strength to be your champion.

I waged war with  broken school systems and burned out teachers. I stood strong during IEP meetings and counseling sessions. I became the parent who wouldn’t take back down because of bureaucracy.

I fought bad influences and bullies. Internet filth and video game overload.

In the most challenging combat I put myself as a barrier between you and your stepfather’s cruelty. Some battles I won, but too many were lost.  Paralyzing fear attempted to keep me down but with each encounter I slowly learned to stand for us.

I endeavored  to discipline you, teach you , love you, protect you. Sometimes; many times; from yourself.

I fought my own demons and dark.

I went to war on my knees in fervent prayer. Over and over and over.

I fought against you. You fought against me. And sometimes, we fought together.

When you became my prodigal son I fought to teach you responsibility, accountability, consequences. I fought to be a good parent (whatever that is)

You pulled away and I fought to be part of your world, to let you go without losing you, to accept your differences, and to make you know that my love was eternal.

Fighting for you gave me strength. Praying for you deepened my faith. With every blow I landed for you another one of my own demons went down and I found my armor, piece by piece. My son, I know I gave you life, but you gave me back mine.

affliction

Holding Patterns

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I’ve heard it been said that laughter is a universal language. Let me also offer this as a universal : the extreme dislike of Waiting. Never in my life have I met someone who actually enjoyed waiting for things to happen. For me, it’s right up there with doing your taxes and horrible stomach pains from Indian food…you just want it to be over. I tend to be the type of person who wants things done yesterday. And if I’m really excited or anxious about it then having it finished by last week would be preferable.

This isn’t something I feel with people. With people, I tend to be very patient and empathetic to the point of enabling. (see my post on ‘Breaking Ties with Toxic’) It’s not the type of waiting such as being in line at Disney or on hold with the gas company for 45 minutes I’m referring to . I mean waiting for Life Changes.You’re ready to get married, get the promotion, move, have a baby, start a business, do SOMETHING,but the pieces won’t fall into place. Or even more frustrating, you don’t know where you’re supposed to go next. You just know that there’s Something More. The “Next Big Thing” is waiting for you, if you could just figure out what the “Next Big Thing” is. This is me. Right now.

Over the past few years God has been repeating one phrase to me over and over.

Be. Here. Now

Be. Here. Now.

Be. Here. Now.

Be . Here. Now.

Honestly, I love Him, but He can annoy me. After I quit whining about it and started saying the phrase out loud a few hundred thousand times it started to make sense. Also, my life wasn’t moving where I wanted it to go so I figured I should pay attention. Here’s what I’ve learned:

BE . Here . Now. Just Be. Stop striving to make the deal or manipulate the circumstances. Stop obsessing over the what if’s and should be’s. Slow down and breathe. Listen to your heart.Spend more time listening to God than shooting ‘why’ questions at Him. God doesn’t speak Whinese. Nurture yourself and take time to do the things you love. Read, paint, draw, pray,write, work out. Do the things that make you lose track of time. Immerse yourself into anything but striving for the ‘Next Big Thing’ and the answers will begin to reveal themselves. “Let be and be still, and recognize that I am God.” Psalm 46:10 AMP

edna mode never look back

Be . Here. Now. Not back then. Not there. Not when.Not someday. Here. There is a reason you are at this place at this time. There are lessons to be learned here that will get you there. Examine the obstacles you bump into repeatedly and figure out what you need to change to avoid them.Planes stay in a circular holding pattern while they await permission to land. Timing has to be right and obstacles must be cleared from the runway before they can execute a successful landing. Be assured that God is working things out and clearing the pathway you will land on. In HIS timing. *Sigh*

Be. Here. Now.  You know that cheesy quote, ” the past is history, tomorrow’s a mystery, today is a gift which is why it’s called the present”.? It’s true. I have spent wayyy too much time worrying over what I should have done yesterday and what might happen tomorrow. What I’ve found is that the past doesn’t change if I rehash it and most of the things I worry about never happen. What Does happen when I don’t focus on now is the people I care most about lose out. They lose out on my full attention and presence. And I lose out on enjoying them. If I’m trying to hold onto the past or grab at the future my hands are too full to embrace the ones right in front of me. The best thing I can do on while waiting for  the ‘Next Big Thing’ is to make memories along the way my family will cherish.

The craziest thing I’ve learned so far? Is sometimes the ‘Next Big Thing’ is the thing I’m doing right now. Maybe someday I’ll listen to God without whining about it first. Maybe.

How do you cope with waiting for life to happen?